


Once Upon A December

by Ozzyyy



Series: Once Upon a December [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adoptive Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anarchist Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Antarctic Empire, Antarctica, Anxious Toby Smith | Tubbo, Canon-Typical Violence, Chaptered, Comfort/Angst, Curse Breaking, Curse of Obedience, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gen, He's just tired man, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), I know holy shit, King Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Pre-Canon, Princes & Princesses, SMP Earth - Freeform, Tired Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade are Siblings, Yeah thats right we're antarctic empire baybeeee, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28521735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozzyyy/pseuds/Ozzyyy
Summary: You ever watch SMP Earth, hyperfixate, and end up manifesting a universe that you have to write? Yeah okay so this is that. Basically, there's a lot of cool shit that happened in SMP Earth that I think could be touched on but i think a lot of people are rewriting it, so I added some extra shit to spice it up.It's the antarctic empire baybeeeeeeee enjoy--Tommy is not one to follow orders. In fact, he hates doing anything that someone asks of him. Your chances of getting him to do a simple task plummet the second you request it. Now he's going to do the opposite to piss you off, fuck you.Or at least, he tries to.It's been hard to do anything BUT what someone asks of him since he's been cursed.
Relationships: Tommyinnit & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: Once Upon a December [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089314
Comments: 55
Kudos: 245





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tw: implied child neglect/abuse in past
> 
> WOW. OKay. I'm doing this. Im actually committing to this-- haha hholyshit--

Tommy is not one to follow orders. In fact, he hates doing anything that someone asks of him. Your chances of getting him to do a simple task plummet the second you request it. Now he's going to do the opposite to piss you off, fuck you. 

Or at least, he tries to. 

It's been hard to do anything BUT what someone asks of him since he's been cursed. It's not a memory he likes to recall, to be honest. Not that he would have a choice if someone were to ask him to. Not many people know. In fact, Tommy's been rather decent at keeping this curse from anyone's greedy hands. It just happens that when people ask him to do something, they don't realize he has no choice but to do it. 

He's seen the consequences, figured it wasn't worth it. 

A telling example is just now, in the snowy riverside town Tommy's been bumming around in for a few days now. He never has a destination in mind when he travels, just a goal. Sell, scam, steal. It's a decent life, a fun one at that, as long as no one screams; "Give that back!". Then things get exceedingly awkward. But if this curse has given him one good thing, it's the ability to talk himself out of most situations. Maybe not well, maybe not charismatic-like, but he can do it. 

He just kind of dropped the ball on this one. 

Tommy feels a jostled shove from behind, and he falls face first into the snow. The ice bites into his already pink cheeks, shaken with cold. He's pulled out all the stops. Asking for a treaty, telling them to back down, threatening, begging, hell he'd offered them gold. Well, sucks to be him because they had just an inkling of what was wrong with him. Not the whole picture, but enough to know he was unable to turn down many requests given to him. 

He pushes himself back onto his feet with a scowl, "Fuck you." He sneers towards one of them, Deo, with his teeth grit. 

"Hurry up. We don't have all day." He ignores the pointed insult in favor of pushing his shoulder once more. Not enough to shove him back into the ground, but to get the point across. Didn't matter anyway, the second he asked for him to hurry, Tommy's feet picked up the pace to jog beside the guy in front of him, Blitzel. He was being escorted by his own men, by people he trusted! 

"I trusted you, you know!" Tommy decides to bite you, turning to the front, "You fuckers just turned your backs on me like it was nothing!" 

Blitzel rolls his eyes, "You've dropped your bounty ten times now, Tommy. That's like, a record." Tommy's face burns at the shaming reminder. 

"Listen fellas, those weren't my fault!" He gives an awkward grin, tugging at his long dark cloak that rests on his shoulders.

"Someone told you to turn us all in and you did it Tommy! Without hesitation!" Bitzel snaps.

Deo jogs up beside them, keeping pace, "I had to call in so many fuckin' favors to get us out of prison. The guard was just itching for a chance to get me behind bars," He groans, "They literally won't shut up about it now. We're gonna have to move to another city. Another empire entirely, to get them off our tails!" 

He jabs a finger at Tommy, shoving it in his chest, "We're fucked, because of you. We should've killed you! That was the rules!" He throws his hands up, "But we're being nice, alright?" 

He adjusts his glasses and lets out a heavy sigh, "Give us a goddamn break and go quietly." 

Tommy's mouth zips shut, but he stares down the boy with an angry heated gaze. He wants to spill all the knowledge he has about this stupid fucking curse. That he didn't want to turn them in, but he couldn't stop himself from speaking. 

He turns back to the snowy dirt below them, walking as a trio towards the center of the offskirted town. Sentiment gnaws at his stomach and he desperately tries to push it away. Whatever. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't. It didn't matter that he couldn't physically speak right now. Everything was fine. 

Bitzel roughly grabs his forearm and yanks him forward, causing him to stumble and nearly smack his head face first into a large wooden board posted in the middle of town. He holds back his firey retort for almost killing him in lieu of figuring out what he hit. 

Two large posts and a slab of wood between, and millions of posters. Drawn out faces and expressions with their names and 'bounty'. Prices range from simple dealers choice, maybe averaging around 20 to 30 gold pieces. But some of the names on here are big, people he's never heard of before, with their bounties counted in diamonds. This must be the criminal identifying board the guards use to protect the city. 

Tommy turns his head wordlessly to Deo. Deo gestures with a hand towards the board with a sigh, "You're gonna shut your eyes, reach out, and grab any one of these, then tell us what it is. That bounty has to be carried out. You have to follow through, on your own. If you finish it, bring back the evidence and you'll be let back into the group. You can even keep the cash prize, if you want." 

He looks warily back to the board. This was a gamble, especially with his eyes closed. He could get a simple robber hunt, or he could end up executing a team of people. All by himself. 

Before he has time to even take in the range of people on the board, a long cotton scarf covers his eyes and tightens behind his skull. Fuck! He didn't even get to see where to reach for!

Bitzel holds his arms and spins him a few times, before holding him steady towards what Tommy can only assume is the board. He fucking hates this. This is so fucking stupid. He almost wants to rip off that fucking band and shout. That he didn't even fucking care about rejoining the crew if they were this stupid! That he'd rather leave and run to find some other fuckers to work with. 

But the order sizzles in the back of his mind, in the troughs of furious flames that lick the logical thinking away from his brain. 

Fuck this, fuck them. Fuck everyone. Fuck his stupid fucking life. 

He reaches out, blind, and waves his hands over the papers until his finger catches on a corner that feels promising. It was older, more frail, parchment then the rest. If it was old, there was a chance it was decommissioned from the buyer because of disinterest. Not to mention, it was even shoved under the other papers like they didn't want anyone to grab it. It must be somewhat easy if no one's even bothered with it. 

He yanks it from where it's nailed to the board and holds it between his thumb and forefinger. Feeling part of the spell release, he pulls off the scarf and opens his mouth to read out who was his new bounty. 

Deo and Bitzel let out simultaneous stifled gasps, Deo chuckling nervously; "No fucking way, that's--" 

Tommy feels all the blood drain from his face. He wants to keel over and die right fucking now. There's no goddamn way! Who the fuck--

"Philza. Antarctic Empire." He swallows, "B-bounty of 10,000." 

Bitzel stutters out a breath, "We can't-- This can't count, can it?" 

"Are you kidding? We set the rules, Blitz." 

"He'll fucking die, Deo--" Bitzel snaps back, eyes narrowing. 

"That's not our fault. He had all of the wall to pick. He's just a fucking unlucky mutt." 

"Deo!" 

"I'll take it." Tommy drawls, pain lancing up his side from the seconds he took to reconsider. He had no choice. Deo had told him to take the bounty. Even if he didn't want to, he had been given an order. 

Dread stings his eyes as he looks at the sketched photo of the Antarctic Emperor, grinning maliciously and holding a bloody trident, wings spread like thunderous clouds behind him. He was the angel of death. And Tommy had to fucking kill him. 

"You're joking-- Tommy--" 

"I'll take the fucking job, ok?" 

"You're gonna die! This-This is a fucking suicide mission, dude!" Bitzel hisses, shoving at a laughing Deo. 

"I know, dickhead! Mind not saying it so goddamn loud?" He starts, "I don't... Listen, I don't give a shit about rejoining. But that cash is decent. And I'm gonna get this fucker, get the payment, and return to shove it all in your faces that you let a goddamn master thief like me go." 

Bitzel's face pales, "You're serious. You're being fucking serious." His eyes are as wide as saucers, running his hands through his hair. He's pacing now, making a dent in the snow and bringing attention to the trio in the midafternoon bustle. 

"Oh my god, he's such a dumbass, holy shit--" Deo cackles, "You're gonna die, man." He rests a hand on his stomach like the humor was turning painful. 

"I'm not gonna die." Tommy crumples the bounty in his hand and shoves it in his pocket, tightening his sheathed sword to his hip, "I'm going to break into those bastard's walls," He takes in a shuddering breath, 

"And I'm gonna fucking kill Philza."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: just. i mean. they yell at tommy a bit n call him mean names. 
> 
> Tommy, meet Wilbur! Hardworkin' boyo. Sapnap is kind of a dick, but that's ok cause everyone is here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO IN ONE BAYBEEEEE

Tommy thinks himself as arrogant, on occasion. A bit of an egoist. Maybe a bit too loud for his own good.

But he can tell when fucked is fucked and Tommy is definitely fucked. The Antarctic Empire is the strongest kingdom in the world right now, building themselves on bloodshed and a lack of mercy. 

And he's walking right up to their doors. To kill them. The one thing that they often boast can never happen! 

Technoblade, Phil's partner in crime, is a piglin hybrid with some sort of blood pact with a god. He can't die, the world refuses it. Tommy's heard stories hushed over campfires about Techno being beaten to a bloody pulp by some of the world's most accomplished fighters only to stand right back up. They say he takes blades through the stomach and keeps moving, like it was a bug bite. He's hit my a thousand arrows and never finches. And while Tommy will say that Techno definitely counts as one of the coolest people he's heard of, he's also the fucking scariest. 

Next to Philza, of course. His actual hit. Philza, Phil, whatever-- he's called the Angel of Death. Partly because of the wings, mostly because wherever he goes, death follows him like a storm cloud. The rumors of his undying nature don't miss Tommy either. His stories are more secretive, that he sometimes puts himself in intentional danger, where he'll almost die, just to see if he can survive it. He's a fucking maniac. People talk about him like he's some sort of mythical creature, his wing beats like thunder, his eyes solid white. 

Basically, things aren't looking up for Tommy's life elongating past 16. 

He's resigned himself to his fate for the most part. He has to do this, he has to. Every second he spends not pushing towards their demise (whether it be sharpening his blade or making headway across the arctic tundra) a persistent ache starts to spread through his chest and gnaw at his spine. It's like he's decomposing, slowly, while still alive. 

He doesn't want to think about how fucked his insides look after such strain. 

In this way, he has little time to get moving towards this hit. There's only so long he can keep telling himself he's preparing before it become a bitter lie on his tongue, and the ache returns. He can't help the feeling that he's marching right to his death. Probably because he totally fucking is. 

This was such a lame way to die, he decides while sitting on a carriage moving north. The castle was still a days ride away from any town, and Tommy was only able to get there by hitching rides with traders that sometimes circulated the tents outside the castle's walls. It's a lame way to die, indeed. Walking straight into their walls and being shot with a thousand arrows upon sight. He doubts he'd get back up like Techno could. He couldn't even convince someone to give him a ride, except for this stupid messenger bird-like man. 

Tommy remembers the muddled conversation they had amidst the blizzard. 

"Are you serious?! Fuckin five gold pieces for a trip you're gonna make anyway?" Tommy barks, teeth grit. His cloak simply wasn't enough to fight off the cold winds. The person he's arguing with's face bends into anger, "You know how hard it is to get to the kingdom? Crossing that bridge is a death wish for anyone who wants to walk it, even as an adult! I'm not gonna risk killing some kid for free--" 

"I'm not a kid!" He screeches, balling up his fists, "I just need to get to the castle walls! It's not a hard thing to do!" 

"Yes it exactly is!" They grit back, shoving the two gold pieces Tommy had given them back in his hand, "You clearly don't know what you're talking about, kid. Just go home--" 

"Call me a kid one more time!" His hand hovers over his blade's handle, fuming with rage. The pause in his travels had clearly upset the curse, and it was digging it's claws into his flesh like a beast. Everything hurt, everything ached, he needed to get moving and either he was doing it with a willing or unwilling participant.

A new person approaches from behind, startling Tommy momentarily out of his rage. He turns and looks up to see a man with brown hair curling around one side of his pale face to almost cover his dark eyes. 

"Holy shit, can you shut the fuck up?" He snaps out, "I'll give you a fucking ride to the walls if you stop yelling." 

The person Tommy's bargaining with gives the new man a sour look, "You're kidding. There's no way you're letting this brat get to the walls."

"Brat?!" Tommy seethes. 

"If he promises to stop yelling. My ears hurt."   
Tommy gapes, looking between the surprised look on Sap's face and back to the new man. He doesn't even process the insult. 

"Yes! Yes, I'll be quiet as fuck, you won't even know I'm there!" He shouts, excited. The man winces, covering his ears momentarily. He groans and rubs his temples, but doesn't retract his offer, "He's only gonna keep shouting if we don't give him a ride. This way, we all get to keep our hearing."

"I resent that." Tommy grumbles. 

"You sure?" Sap warily looks between the two, ignoring Tommy. 

He sighs, "He needs a ride there, I can give him a ride. There's space on my cart. It's not a huge deal, I've carted people to the walls before." 

"Wil, look at what he's wearing. He isn't even dressed right." 

Wil gives Tommy a once over, pursing his lips, "Okay, he needs a heavier coat. No need to class shame, Sapnap." 

Sapnap groans, running a hand down his face, "What if he gets hypothermia or some shit? It's like a couple hour ride, almost a whole day! If you show up to the walls with a dead kid on your cart, there's nothing your 'dad' can do--" 

Wil bristles, "I am more than my fucking dad--" 

"I know that Wilbur, but the people won't! They've been itching for a chance to pin them on something. You shouldn't even be out here. The traders out front are sharks, man."

"You're overstepping your lines, Sap," Wilbur says, voice shrill, "I'm not an idiot. No one knows, alright? It's just one kid. What the fuck kind of damage could he even do?" He trains his blazing gaze onto Tommy, "Do you know who I am?" 

Tommy blinks, shaking his head, "No?" 

Wilbur gives Sapnap a pointed look, smug. 

"Whatever. If that kid dies, I'm telling everyone I told you not to." 

"Fine," Wil rolls his eyes, "But you better thank me when you can sleep tonight because he won't be talking your ear off. I expect a warm meal and a 'thank you for being a nice person, Wilbur'." 

"Get to your carriage already, bitch, you're losing daylight." Sapnap huffs, shoving Wilbur playfully before turning heel and walking off to his campsite, where a fire is weakly burning. 

Wilbur snorts, watching him retreat for a few moments before turning to Tommy, "You still want a ride to the walls?" 

"Yes! Please." Tommy nods fervently, feeling the trickles of pain begin to subside. He was making progress again!

"Good, cause if I did all that shit for nothing, I would have been kinda pissed." He huffs, unlatching his heavy cloak from his shoulders and resting it on the boy's, "If you die, I'm bringing you back to life to kick your ass again. There's no way I'm losing to Sapnap." 

Tommy doesn't even care anymore, because the warmth the cloak provides him is like heaven. He mutly nods and digs into his pockets, bringing back out the two gold pieces he tried to offer Sapnap earlier. 

"It's all I have--" 

Wilbur's already waving it off, walking past him and silently gesturing Tommy to follow, "I don't want your money. You're heading to the walls because you do trade, yeah?" 

Tommy gapes, putting his money back in his pocket, "No, not really." 

Wilbur looks back for a moment, confused, "Then why are you heading to the walls?" 

"My parents--" Tommy blurts out, "My parents are traders and I'm meeting them there." 

The man's slow walk turns into a pause as Tommy catches up to his side. He seems deep in thought. 

"Your parents left you on the mainland? Alone?" 

Tommy winces, "Not... really. They didn't mean to. I'm just catching up." 

"Sounds like you have shitty parents." Wilbur raises an eyebrow, frowning. 

"They're all I got." Tommy shrugs his shoulders uselessly, ending with a nervous chuckle. There's no easy way to explain how what he's describing is much less of a horror than his real parents were. 

Wilbur hums noncommittally and begins walking again, Tommy now at his heels as they approach a large wooden caravan with a white hood arching over it. Wilbur points to the very back corner, where the boxes are shoved just far enough that someone as skinny as him could fit. 

"You'll sit there, just keep an eye on the goods. If they fall, yell and we'll stop and pick them up. Sometimes the back panel here," His mouth quirks downwards disappointingly, "It flips open randomly. I've tried to fix it, learned to deal with it. It's a frost issue, I'm pretty sure." He's huffs, pushing the boxes a little more to make some space, "If you need to piss or something, do it now." 

Tommy looks at the lack of space with dread. He wasn't really one for many fears, but such a tight space had his heart racing. Wilbur seems to not notice, flipping open the back panel and moving to the front of the cart, "We're off in ten, after I get the horse ready." 

This is going to be a long ride.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: panic attacks, traumatic flashbacks, general trust in a stranger that im unable to get rid of the plothole for

They take off not too long after, Tommy crammed into the space with his limbs all tucked tight to his form. Wilbur calls back a few times when the trip starts, to ask if he's alright. Tommy shouts back what he hopes is a convincing 'yes', because he most definitely is not. 

He's on the back of a rickety cart, with a back that'll open at random, surrounded by heavy boxes of fish and produce. And, to top it off, he's pushed into a corner closest to the bridge's drop off into the icy ocean. 

He's in what he assumes is pure hell. 

If he wasn't in such utter panic, he'd be delighted with the travel. The positioning of the bridge makes a perfect line towards the horizon, painting the backdrop of his trip with hazy blue mountains and pink skies. Even the bridge was a work of art, each stretch of road marked with unique patterns of a picture story. 

Tommy watches the little figures pass by to distract himself. He sees carved pigs and birds, suns rising and falling. Oceans breaking apart at the peak of a mountain. Explosives falling from the sky. He assumes it's some kind of retelling, though he can't pin down which one. This was, however, definitely some sort of walk of glory. 

It only adds to his working theory, that these emperors didn't want to be seen. They had only one bridge to visit their secluded island off the coast, in the coldest atmosphere. And the one bridge was rarely tended to, some parts even broken off or so mounted with snow, they had to switch sides they were riding on. 

They wanted to be alone, is the conclusion Tommy comes to, which he can relate to. Of all the things Tommy wants, most of it could be summed up in wanting to be alone. Not surrounded by powerful voices that could tell him any request. Get him to kill, to be killed, anything. But that thought makes his stomach churn, so he leaves it behind on the bridge. 

He wishes they'd send someone to shovel the shit sometimes at least. And those are the last thought he has before the clattering back panel finally shudders open and all hell breaks loose. 

Tommy falls forward, the crammed boxes pushing him towards the space and tumbling over his head. He acutely feels at least three boxes punch out his air before he lands hard on the rocky bridge below their feet. His head is spinning, bruises already pounding out his muscles into weakness. He can distantly hear the clattering of boxes and the nickering of a horse. 

He stumbles to his knees, wobbling as he tries to stand. His head feels sticky and thick, like someone shoved cotton in his ears. For a moment, Tommy's gaze lands over the bridge. Bile licks the back of his throat, and he gurgles out a curse, swaying himself away from the edge. Luckily, he doesn't fall into boxes, but into something much warmer. A body. 

He swallows thick around his tongue and blearily looks to see the man, Wilbur, arms under his own and pulling him back to the carriage. He hoists Tommy onto the back of the carriage, resting him against a box he'd brought back to the cart. 

"Are you okay?" Wilbur asks, his voice sounding tight with concern. That was new. 

Tommy's eyebrows pinch together and he nods his head, reaching up to wipe sweat from his forehead. He pulls back his palm to see blood coating his knuckles. Ah. That wasn't sweat then. 

Wilbur seems to come to the same worrying conclusion, eyes widening. 

"Shit." He sucks in a breath, looking Tommy over, "I'm sorry, fuck-- wait here--" He bustles off into the snow once again, out of Tommy's sight. 

Tommy, meanwhile, is trying not to have a panic attack, looking at the swaths of blood coating his palm and dripping down his temple. He'd felt a crate hit his skull, had it really been that hard? He doesn't even process the order, not feeling like leaving the damn cart anyway. There was no way he'd survive this. Fuck-- FUCK he didn't even make it the castle walls before failing his goddamn task. A head injury would take him out for weeks, months! And with that slow progress, his curse would eat him away from the inside. 

He was dead. He had caused his own death. 

Just as he's about to shove his face into his hands, biting back tears, Wilbur returns. Holding a glass bottle, corked with a shining pink liquid. 

It's like Tommy's struck by lightening, his every muscle set into panic mode. Tensed for running. That was a potion-- a potion like the one he'd been forced to take all those years ago. His mouth goes dry, lips zipping shut. he didn't even want to think about what this fucking stranger would give him, if his own dad gave him the worst curse of his life. 

"No--" Tommy gurgles out, palms scraping against wood as he weakly tries to scramble away. 

The panic isn't lost on Wilbur, who stutters out, "It's-It's okay! I make-- I make these, they're good. They're meant for me, usually. I'm not... really allowed to share them because they're expensive, but--" 

Tommy's barely hearing what he says, pulling his legs tight to his form and shutting his eyes. Maybe if he blocked out Wil, he wouldn't have to deal with this fucking nightmare.

"Please-- It's not a weakness one or anything, it's healing, I swear! Please, just-- trust me. Drink this." 

A pained gasp escapes Tommy's lips as his hand immediately shoots out and grabs the neck of the bottle. Wilbur lets him take it, confused as to why Tommy looked so horrified. 

His hand shakes closer, Tommy trying to resist his own movements. But he can't-- He can't stop his hands from uncorking the bottle and letting the liquid flow down his throat. As soon as the last drop is out, he grits his teeth and chucks the bottle as far from him as possible with a watery sob. 

"Fuck you-- Fuck--" 

Wilbur looks so lost, blinking as he stares at the bottle and back to Tommy, "It's-- It's healing, it's okay--" 

Tommy curls in on himself, tangling his fingers into his hair and biting down on his lip, waiting for whatever hell to wash over him. Healing this, healing that. He could explain it however he wanted, but Tommy knew how these things went. There was a catch. There was always a catch. 

His wounds begin to heal, stitching themselves back together, his blood pulling itself back into his body and warming the tips of his fingers. It was like drinking a hot cocoa, the heat spreading over his limbs and flushing his cheeks. He feels sick to his stomach. 

Moments pass, and his blinded panic fades into dreary acceptance, then silent confusion. 

Because they're moving again, and he's definitely not in the back of the cart anymore. He's in the front of the cart now, he realizes as he opens his eyes and lifts his gaze. Sat on a bench and watching the gentle trod of the horse in front of him. The heavy cloak on his shoulders feels like a lifeline now, his fingers gripping it tightly. He feels drained, eyes pulsing dully from the tears. 

"Wh're?" Tommy croaks out, clearing his throat and looking around. 

Wilbur, on his left, startles and looks over at him, breaking his hardened stare at the road ahead of him. His expression melts into embarrassment and shame, "Hey, you're back with the living." His eyes are so soft now, lips tipped into a frown, "We're still on the road. Maybe another hour till we reach the walls." 

Tommy nods slowly, looking at his feet and then back to the crates. Each were back and packed into the cart, now tied with rope. When he glances back, Wilbur smiles sheepishly,

"I did it myself for months before you came around, I didn't need you. And you were... occupied." 

Tommy balks, furiously turning his gaze back to his feet. A silence dawns upon them, the only sound being the hitting of hooves against stone and the turning of creaking wheels. 

"I'm sorry. For the record." Wilbur mumbles, "I didn't think you'd-- I figured the boxes would just fall out. Not fall on top of you. And then I got the potion and you freaked--" He groans, "I just- I kept fucking up. I'm not good at this. My dad," He cuts himself off with a hiss, "He's better at this then I am. Usually I'm the one, you know, panicking. And then I dish it out and don't know what to do--" He rubs a hand over his face with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, is just what I mean. I know it's-- I didn't want to do that. To anyone. Ever." 

Tommy watches him, nerves frayed and confused. He's not sure why Wilbur even cares, considering Tommy was just some kid he picked up on the road. He didn't even do it for kindness, he did it so Tommy would shut up. None of that feels like how Wilbur's acting now, fidgety and awkward, apologetic. 

"S'okay. I'm--" He shrugs, "It's whatever." 

Wilbur scoffs, "Yeah, alright. I just needed to say that." 

"Okay, weirdo." 

"Damn. Not a single drop of remorse for the man giving you a free ride across the worst bridge?" He snarks, raising an eyebrow. 

"This is definitely the worst bridge." Tommy breathes out, eyeing it sleepily. 

"For sure. We need to make a new one." 

"Mhm." Tommy nods, eyelids heavy. 

"If you need to sleep, that's alright, you know. I know this seat isn't that comfortable but I won't try and wake you till we're there. Least I could do." 

"Touch me and I will kill you in my sleep." Tommy warns after a brief considering pause, pulling the cloak to bundle under his head a bit. 

Wilbur laughs, "You got it, kid." 

"M'not a kid." He mumbles as sleep drags at his form, "My n'me is Tommy."

"Yeah... alright. Tommy." Wilbur says under his breath, watching the sun fall to their left as they continue. Tommy tries to watch him for a few moments longer, to make sure he doesn't try to steal his shit, before he can't resist the pull any longer and he falls into a deep sleep.


End file.
